


Subterfuge

by Jael



Series: Len Snart [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Early Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, New Relationship, Sneaking Around, Subterfuge, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 03:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14662596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: Subtitle: "Five Times Sara and Len Nearly Got Busted--and One Time They Did." Immediate follow-up to "Date Night." Sara and Len are trying to figure out their new relationship without cluing their teammates in quite yet. That, however, is easier said than done.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know. I have lots to write. But this follow-up to "Date Night" started demanding my attention and I couldn't help myself. Six parts as per the subtitle: I don't know if I'll be able to post every day again, but I will try!
> 
> Picks up not long after the end of that story, FWIW. Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta!

 

There's something scratching her right between the shoulder blades.

It's been there for a while, and Sara's not quite sure what finally pushes it from the back of her awareness to actual annoyance. Muttering to herself, she draws away from the still-sleeping Len a bit, leading to a groggy murmur as he reaches for her, fingers brushing her bare ribcage. Sara smiles, but stretches, twisting an arm around to reach for the scratchy distraction.

After brief contortions, her own fingertips brush the annoyance, and she snags it, bringing it around to examine it—and laughing out loud.

The sound causes Len to open an eye and regard her, smiling a bit himself.

"I love that laugh," he tells her in a low, contented tone. "But I gotta wonder why I'm hearing it in bed."

Sara brandishes the culprit, smirking: the jack of hearts from the deck they'd been playing with, what…more than 24 hours ago? Before they'd gotten completely and thoroughly distracted, in a distinctly good way. Most of the cards, she's pretty sure, wound up on the floor, though it's not so surprising that a few are tangled amidst the sheets, or their discarded clothing, or momentarily stuck to the drying sweat from any exertions…

Len chuckles as he props his head on a hand and reaches out to take the card from her, flourishing it before waving his hand and making it vanish in one of his slight of hand moves. Sara lifts her eyebrows, grinning, and makes a show of looking for it, even though it's clearly  _not_  up his sleeve. Or any other item of clothing.

That's distracting, too, and they might very well have completely lost track of time yet again-but Gideon speaks then, tone somewhat apologetic, breaking in on their distraction.

"I'm sorry, Captain Lance," she says, "and Mr. Snart. But Ms. Jiwe is coming back on board, a little early, and I thought you might want to know…"

Sara jerks back to reality far more quickly that she'd expected, pulling her wandering hands away and sitting up so quickly her head spins a little as Len makes a disappointed noise. "What time is it?"

"6:44 a.m., just shy of the 36-hour limit you gave…"

But Sara's cursing to herself, now, getting to her feet and casting about for her clothing. Len sits up, and it's a fine view, but urgency (OK, a different sort of urgency) is driving her now. She finds her sleep pants half-tangled in a blanket that'd long since been kicked to the floor, but her T-shirt still manages to allude her. Shrugging, she grabs Len's gray T (hell, he's got tons of them) and tugs it on over the pants.

It smells like him, in a good way. She takes a deep and satisfied breath, then turns to regard its owner.

Len's pulled on his boxers while she's been hunting down her clothes, but that's all. He's leaning back against the bed, arms folded, watching her with what seems to be a mix of fondness, desire, and slight exasperation.

"Any reason," he says after a moment, "you're running out of here like you're been caught doin' something wrong?"

Sara pauses a moment, reviewing, then sighs. "I'm captain," she tells him with resignation, taking a step closer.

"I've noticed."

"I need to be…unbiased." Another step closer. "Or at least look it."

Len's lips twitch. "Like you'd ever hesitate to tell me off if I needed it," he returns. "No matter what we…do in our spare time. And your people know it."

"I know. It's just…" Sara stops fairly close to him and runs a hand through her hair. "Just give me a bit, OK? To figure things out."

He stills, and Sara, belatedly, notices a certain hesitant look in his eyes, right before he glances away. "Of course. But…ah.  _You_  things or …  _us_  things?"

He thinks she's already doubting them. Whatever  _them_  is.

Sara's not sure either, but after last night, she knows she wants to find out. So, taking one more step, she reaches out and puts a hand on either side of his face, bright blue eyes meeting icy blue ones that are somewhat uncertain, then pulls him down for a kiss.

Which immediately gets involved enough that she almost completely forgets that she wants to get back to her room before Amaya or anyone else can find them out. When she finally breaks off the kiss, they're pressed together again, no space between, the air warm and close around them and it would be so easy to fall back into bed together…

Sara sighs again, stepping back, smiling a little at the disconsolate noise Len makes.

" _Me_  things, mostly," she tells him breathlessly. "Sort of  _us_  things. Just…how to do this. No second thoughts."

Len shakes his head roughly, then gets a grip and gives her a fond smirk.

"Good," he manages with a bit of the drawl. "None here, either."

* * *

Sara makes it back to her room OK, ducking in to grab her usual shampoo (Nate had kept stealing it, so she'd resorting to keeping it in her room) and back out to head to the shower. Only a moment later, though, Amaya moved around the corner, heading in the opposite direction, slowing as she saw the captain.

"You're back early," Sara says, taking the initiative. "Everything OK?"

The other woman shrugs, but she doesn't quite answer. "You mean I'm on time," she says with a slight smile. "Unlike the guys, apparently."

Sara decides not to pursue the issue. She's noticed some friction (not the good kind) between Amaya and Nate lately, and corresponding distraction from Mick. Best to stay out of it for now. "True. That's why I usually give them an early deadline. So they get back here by, oh, noon."

Amaya laughs, but she's also eyeing Sara with a suddenly sharp side-eye. "Where's Len? He didn't go out, did he?"

Gray T-shirts are common, right? Of course they are. "Mick told you Len and I had a…a date, right? We came back after that. I think he's still here, far as I know." Perhaps a little misleading, but not a lie.

"Hmm." Amaya studies her, but apparently declines to question or comment. "Have fun?"

"I did."

"Good."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a few small Easter eggs here. ;)
> 
> Continued thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta!

It's not that they don't want to spend more time alone together. They definitely do. But the Waverider is small, and their teammates are nosy, and there's no chance to do anything more than share the occasional short talk, or a few minutes in the training room, or the briefest kiss.

Not if they don't want to spill the beans, anyway.

Len, frankly, wouldn't mind at all. Hell, he'd sort of like to scream to the hills that he's slept with Sara Lance. (Not that sleeping had all that much to do with it, but whatever. He can do euphemisms.) That he has every hope and intention of continuing to sleep with Sara Lance. That he's…

That he's pretty sure he's falling in love with Sara Lance.

He's never felt this way in his misspent life before, but it doesn't matter. He knows. It's unnerving and exhilarating at the same time.

He's not sure she feels the same. He hopes she does, or that she'll get there. But in the meantime, well…some time would be nice.

But even…especially…on a time ship, that's in short order. Right after their date night in Central City, they get bit by a wave of aberration reports, one right after another, and then a wave of time prate activity right on top of them.

Eventually, it's so frenetic that the team splits up. Amaya, Stein, Nate and Jax go to 2015 Orange City to deal with a confused and angry group of would-be members of the Spanish Inquisition. (Nate and Ray happily toss Monty Python quotes at each other until Sara separates them.) Sara, Len, Mick and Ray head to late 1800s New York City to keep time pirates from pushing William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer into instigating the Spanish-American War sooner than the timeline demands.

Once there, Sara, making a snap judgment on the abilities of her people, sends Ray and Mick to Cuba in the service of the New York  _Journal_  and the New York  _World_ , respectively, and takes Len to the streets of New York City to try to stop the special (and fortunately, very limited) editions both papers had printed with very similar (and thoroughly fake, fed to them by the time pirates) stories blaming new, creative and fictitious Cuban atrocities on Spain.

War will still start, but it needs to start in April 1898, not before.

* * *

Len, a former street kid of sorts (his Lewis having died considerably earlier than Earth-1's Lewis, leaving him and Lisa to the streets for a few years, something that'd turned out to be rather less damaging than the alternative) had appealed to the newsies who already had the papers. Well, in all honestly, he'd bribed the hell out of them, having done his usual amount of research before leaving the Waverider and appealed to Gideon for a copious sum of 1898 currency. She'd calculated the amount that could enter the U.S. economy without ill effect, then grudgingly provided it, Len having figured out how to sweet-talk her nearly from day one.

The kids are willing to hand over the papers provided Sara and Len pay them even better than they could have earned for a long day of work. Sara, eyeing their ragged thinness, hands over perhaps a little more money than she strictly has to. From his slight smile, she's pretty sure Len notices—and does the same.

Still, it occurs to some of the older, more cynical newsies that they could get some cash and still have the papers to sell…all they have to do is wait and take them back from this pair of "soft" and apparently rich folk.

Despite how everything eventually works out, Sara curses herself for being off her guard, for being a little too self-satisfied at being able to help these kids, forgetting that one doesn't live long on the street by being unwilling to take chances and do things that aren't, precisely, on the side of any angels.

"Ow!" She stares down at her bleeding wrist, at the…oh, hell, interior of her bleeding wrist, exposed by an unexpectedly sharp blade held in the hand of a filthy and mutinous-looking teenager, who scowls at her just before he reaches down and grabs a bundle of the newspapers, starting to back away.

"Are you kidding me?" she tells him incredulously, before kicking the knife out of his hand and grabbing the papers back with her non-injured hand. "I know we just gave you, like, double your daily take."

"Sara?" Len's at her side and scowls at first the injured wrist and then the teen, who's just foolish enough to scowl back at him. A pair of compatriots move to his side, then another, and they're all clearly trying to decide whether or not to rush the pair of unexpectedly competent intruders.

Len shakes his head, then pulls out a somehow still pristine handkerchief and gently wraps Sara's (now quite painful) wrist in it. She lets him, keeping an eye on the boys, hearing the others they'd paid off scurrying away. She doesn't blame them; most of them are just kids, and even with her wrist, the biggest part of taking this lot down will be not hurting them too much…

But then, another teen is there, shoving the one who'd held the knife backward, standing between him and Sara and Len. He's shabby like the others, but not quite as disreputable-looking, somehow, and there are a few other kids lingering around with him, like they're letting him take the lead.

Len, who's still scowling mightily and holding Sara's wrist, snaps out, "Who the hell are you?"

"Jack Kelly," the boy—the young man-tosses over his shoulder. "Get outta here, you two. You OK, ma'am?"

"I'm fine," Sara grits out, even as she knows she's not. If she doesn't get back to Waverider, there could well be damage, especially since the blade had been quite dirty. Infection doesn't respect League training. "Thanks."

"Don' mention it." The young man eyes his opponents, then yells, "Scrapper!", nodding as another, younger boy steps up.

"Make sure 'dose bundles stay here," he orders, then glances back at Sara and Len. "We'll make sure these papers don' get out." His sharp gaze sharpens a little more as she eyes him. "Yeah, I get it. You got some reason not to want dese to spread. And you don't seem like the 'oh, my husband's in da police news' type…call it instinct. You helped dose kids: you didn't have to pay 'em extra, but you did. We'll help you."

Len nods back, and Sara gets the impression he recognizes a kindred spirit. "Got it," he clips out himself. "Thanks." Then, switching his grip to Sara's good wrist and catching her eye, he tugs it.

And with one more glance at the standoff behind them, they're gone.

* * *

"You get to the medbay," Len tells her as soon as they've made it back to the Waverider, parked on a New York City rooftop. "That looked bad. I'll check on Mick and Ray, and the others."

Sara wants to argue, but the handkerchief is soaked through now and her wrist hurts like bloody hell. She nods, and they split, Len to the bridge, Sara to medbay.

Gideon, once her sensors have gotten a good look at the wound, reports that nothing too important (in other words, tendons: Sara knows perfectly well she'd already have bled out if an artery had been hit) has been damaged, but the injury's in desperate need of cleaning. Sara settles in to let the medbay tech do so, sighing and closing her eyes as the wound is numbed.

The process also has a soporific effect, and the next thing she knows, she opens her eyes at a sound to see Len not quite rushing in the doorway. He relaxes as he sees her, slowing to a saunter to make his way across the room at a more leisurely pace.

"I told you she was fine," Gideon's voice tells him somewhat tartly. "I was not going to wake her up just to assuage your paranoia or your distrust of my assurances."

"Forgive me, G," Len tells the annoyed AI smoothly, eyes still on Sara. "I'm an…evidenced-based…guy, myself. I trust you, just had to see for myself." He pauses right at the bedside…well, chairside, since she hadn't reclined the seat. "How are you?"

"Fine," Sara repeats, amused, studying him and then glancing at her arm, still wrapped into one of the medsleeves used for minor (and sometimes more major) repairs. "Gideon? Am I done?"

"You are, Captain Lance." The AI still sounds slightly irritated, although a little mollified by Len's apology. "The wound is clean, and the edges are sealed. Keep it wrapped and try not to use that hand too much for a little while, but it should be fine."

"At least it's my off hand," Sara murmurs, gently pulled her arm out and studying the thin new scar there. "Thanks, Gideon. Seriously. That knife was filthy."

"There were indeed some dangerous bacteria in the wound." Definitely mollified now. "You are forgiven, Mr. Snart. Worry is a very human trait."

It may be, but Sara also notices that Gideon no longer even pretends to act like she's not capable of hurt feelings or irritation. Smiling, she gets to her feet, but Len's standing so close that she has to halt right there, studying his expression.

"You were worried?" she says after a moment.

A slight smile, but the way he glances away tells her more than any words. "Well, as you said, that was filthy," he murmurs. "And you were really bleeding. I was…concerned."

"Ah." She studies him. "The others?"

"All well." He perks up a little. "Amaya said her group is dealing with things just fine, but it'll be a little while yet. Un _expect_ ed complications."

"Of course there are."

"And Ray and Mick say to tell you they have it in hand. They're working together to utterly confound their 'bosses' until the time comes." He snickers. "They're having fun with it. Ray's a little surprised to see what a good writer Mick is."

Len, however, isn't, Sara notices. "Good," though, is all she says. "So…it'll be a little while?"

"Until they're back? At least a day, for Amaya and crew. Longer for the others." He blinks at her…then narrows his eyes. "At least a day."

"And our part is done." Sara licks her lips. "Gideon? Is it?"

"Very few of the limited editions got out, and Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer are now providing the papers with such conflicting and wild information that it will not be effective for the time pirates' purposes. And they have already left the time period, presuming that they can simply come back and reap the benefits of their warmongering."

Their eyes meet again.

And then Len moves a little closer. "I think you need to go rest. In your room."

"I need to go rest," Sara agrees, looking up at him. "In my room."

They stare at each other.

Then, moving just slowly enough that Sara could certainly pull away if she wants to (she doesn't want to), Len steps forward and sweeps her up into his arms, right off her feet, making her laugh as he turns for the door, heading toward the captain's quarters she'd taken over not so long ago.

"I can walk!" she tells him mock-sternly, even as she wraps her arms around his neck and leans into him.

Len smirks at her. "I know. But let me be dramatic."

"Since when has anyone ever managed to stop you?"

He snickers, but by that time, they're at her room. Gideon opens the door for them before they even get there, which would be a bit creepy if it wasn't so handy, given that they're already kissing as Len moves them over the threshold, and toward the bed.

* * *

"Captain Lance? Mr. Snart?"

Len groans as the AI's voice penetrates his consciousness, rousing him from a sound sleep. Sara burrows into him with a sleepy and annoyed murmur, burying her head in his collarbone, but then sighs, pulling away just a little.

"What?" she says with annoyance laced with concern. Gideon really wouldn't bother them without reason, Len knows, but that doesn't mean they want to let reality enter their warm cocoon. (His natural body temp is a little lower than the average, but between the heat they've generated and the insulation of the cover, it's quite cozy.)

"Mr. Rory and Dr. Palmer are approaching the ship…"

"What?" Sara sits bolt upright, and while the view is lovely, Len's a little distracted himself, trying to figure out how much time has passed while they were so thoroughly enjoying themselves.

"They brought the jump ship back," Gideon tells them. "The current timeline is stable and as it should be." She pauses. "It seems the time pirates found them out much sooner than we anticipated and came to eliminate them. It did not work."

That's good, but… Len and Sara both groan. "They didn't…" Sara starts.

"The pirates are in the custody of the Spanish authorities, rethinking their life choices." Gideon's tone might almost hold amusement. "That is Dr. Palmer's choice of words. Also, one or two may be slightly singed."

"And there's Mick's." Len sighs. He glances at Sara, who's eyeing him, and realizes just what she's thinking. It's not at all what he'd like her to be thinking. "You want me to get outta here before they can figure out where we are, don't you?"

She sighs, bringing her legs up to her chest (damnit) and wrapping her arms around them.

"This isn't how I'd prefer everyone to find out," she says quietly. "So…yes. Please don't take it…"

"It's OK." He can be patient. He can. Especially if it means a potential future with Sara Lance, and more of the activities in which they've spent the past day or so. Peeling back the covers and climbing stark naked out of bed, he hunts down his clothing…then realizes something that might clue any interested observer in. "Crap. Uh. Well, hopefully I can get back to my room before either of them sees me."

"Hmm." Well, at least Sara's watching his little exhibition with that particular mixture of smugness and desire, but she blinks at his words. "What do you mean?"

"I don't have much reason to be wearing 1890s street clothes, let alone such worn ones, around the ship." Len brandishes his trousers at her. "These aren't that comfortable."

Sara's lips twitch, but she nods as Len, grumbling, pulls the pants on. "I see the problem. Gideon, help Len get back to his room OK? Avoiding the others?"

"I will do my best, but it's not like Mr. Rory is predictable." The AI's tone is frank, and perhaps a little amused.

Len rolls his eyes, buttoning his shirt. "Yeah, yeah. OK." He pauses a moment, then crosses back to where Sara is watching him and leans in to steal one more, sadly brief, kiss. "See you later."

She kisses him back, then sighs and pulls away. "Later."

* * *

"They are now on board. Dr. Palmer has asked where you two are. I've reported that the captain is in her room…and that you are heading for the galley." Gideon's tone is definitely amused. "It is, strictly speaking, true. Your room just happens to be on the way, yes?"

Len rolls his eyes, amused in turn that the AI is showing so much of the personality he'd always suspected she has. "Yes, indeed," he drawls, picking up the pace. "And where are they?"

"Dr. Palmer is in the library, checking something. Mr. Rory is heading for the galley, but taking a different path, but so…ah…actually…Mr. Snart!"

And then, just before Len gets to his room, Mick rounds the corner ahead of him, pauses, and does a 180 to consider him.

"So. Weird Snart," he comments, folding his arms. "S'up with the clothes?"

And so much for no one noticing. Len lifts his chin and decides to power through. "I told you to call me Len."

The other man shrugs. "Sometimes the other name fits more than others," he mutters. "Gideon said you were headin' for the galley. Thought it was from yer room. Why're you runnin' around in that get-up?"

"I had to…" Don't hesitate too much. "…to check something."

Mick stares. "What?"

_I could really use a rescue right now, Gideon_. His brain (which has  _not_  been the organ in charge for the past half-day or so) doesn't want to remind him of what's the other direction besides Sara's quarters. "…in the medbay. A test."

A frown. "What kinda test?"

_Please, Gideon?_ "Sara…" When Mick's eyebrows rise abruptly, Len panics and tries to head off any possible misconceptions. "…there were some weird bacteria in her cuts. Just making sure it didn't show anything odder than expected after Gideon tested it. It's fine. We're fine. We're all fine here now. How are you?"

Mick gapes at him. Len considers, then decides to cut his losses, gives the other man a smirk, and tapping the door, ducks into his room.

With any luck, Mick will just forget the whole thing. Right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and rather trope-y. But fun! Thanks to LarielRomeniel.
> 
> If there are any tropes anyone wants me to take on in this one, let me know.

Sara's not a huge fan of stakeouts.

It's not like League training hadn't prepared her for that sort of thing. She can lurk with the best of them. But she's never liked sitting still much, let alone for long periods of time, and while she's glad she's not lying in wait for purposes of assassination these days, it's not exactly more entertaining to lurk around trying to catch a former Time Master turned time pirate.

Which is what they're doing, thanks to Rip.

Well, most of the team is. As for Sara, she's spent the past few days going over lists of former Time Masters, and time charts showing where and when they might have been, with Rip and Gideon. The others get to handle the stakeout part, with Mick and Amaya also hanging around the ship as potential backup.

It's been both good to see the former captain, who's become a friend, and irritating, because they do tend to clash a little. (Rip does have a noted tendency to be a bit…hmm…overly sure he's right. And he's liable to forget that he's no longer captain.) Sometimes a rousing argument is fun; sometimes she just rolls her eyes and goes for a walk, leaving the former Time Master and his former ship alone, insomuch as a physical human being and an AI can be alone.

(Having seen the image of the Gideon in Rip's head, Sara has  _thoughts_  about that relationship. But those are for another time.)

It's good, really, that Rip's tackling the issue of the Time Masters who hadn't been at the Vanishing Point at that fateful moment. (She still flinches away from thinking about who  _had_  been.) The explosion had left a hole in the world, and as they say, nature abhors a vacuum.

Still, they've been dealing with this for a week or so now, in shifts. They've all had it. Fortunately, Mick and Amaya have a well-timed idea.

* * *

Sara's humming to herself when she swipes the keycard and pushes open the door to the hotel room. She's greeted with the pleasant sight of a Snart backside, and pauses to admire it even more before he realizes it's not the person he expects.

"You better not have come back without coffee, Tin Man," she hears him drawl, still leaning over to peer out the window. "That was awful quick."

"No coffee," Sara tells him casually, grinning as he jerks up and then spins, staring at her. "Just me. Thought you'd be OK with that."

In fact, he looks so pleased to see her, the light in his eyes in that one unguarded moment, that her stomach does an odd little flip-flop thing as she pauses there. They smile at each other before Len seems to remember he's actually got a job to do here and turns back toward the window.

Sara's quick to assuage his concern. "Stakeout's off. We got her." She considers. "Well, Mick and Amaya did. They were looking through some of Rip's information and decided to go wait at the spot she usually parks her ship…and got her first."

Len looks minorly annoyed that the stakeout's been for nothing…but he shakes it off quickly, tapping his comm off and yanking it out of his ear. "Mick and Amaya, huh?" he drawls, ambling toward her. "They make a good team."

"They do." She's missed him. How has she missed him so much in this relatively short span of time? Sara shakes her head as he draws close, halting right outside arm's reach, and resists the urge to step closer herself, for now. "Rip was profoundly annoyed he hadn't noticed her pattern. Still. She's actually not a bad sort, he says, and might be a candidate for those he's recruiting. It's out of our hands anyway."

Len moves a tiny bit closer; she can feel his warmth. But both of them are still keeping their hands to themselves. "So, where's Tin Man?"

"I passed  _Nate_  in the hallway on his way to the coffee shop. Told him to tell Ray and the others around the site that we're off the hook for watching the apartment." It's her turn to shuffle forward a little. "Got his keycard to the room here and told him I'd let you know."

Len's eyes light a little more. "Ah. So he doesn't have a key now…" His hands settle at her waist, finally. "Huh. Interesting."

Sara smirks at him even as she wraps her arms around his waist. "You have a one-track mind, don't you?"

"Me? You're the one who came all the way up here to tell me yourself instead of using the comm." His eyes dance as he pulls her closer. "Got somethin' you're thinkin' about?"

Sara considers banter a moment before deciding to go with sincerity, letting her eyes darken as she lets one hand drift lower. "You," she purrs, as he starts a little. "For days now. Missed you."

It's definitely a little more direct than either of them has been before, even given their past bedroom activities (at least other than actively during those activities). There's a flash of something in Len's eyes, and then they darken too, a certain spark lighting within the icy blue, and he ducks his head, claiming her lips in a sudden motion that Sara is nonetheless completely ready for.

The kiss heats up immediately, and while it's very distracting, Sara waits for the moment she feels Len reach a certain amount of distraction himself before she hooks a foot around his ankles and yanks.

They topple onto one of the two full beds, Len landing with an "oof" and Sara with a chuckle. She rights herself immediately, keeping the upper hand and getting one knee on each side of his hips, leaning forward to capture his wrists and pin them together to the bed by his head. They're cool, but not icy; he still has his powers well in hand, not always a given during moments when he's particularly…distracted.

They're both breathing heavily, and the sound Len makes, deep in his throat, when Sara shifts a little makes her want to get them both naked, immediately. But it's too much fun, really far too much fun, to let this play out a little more. She moves again, letting out an almost involuntary gasp herself and smirking at the look on his face, then again…

"Missed you too," he says in a tone that's gratifyingly breathless. "But Sara…ahhh…damn!"

"Problem?"

His eyes are so dark that they seem to be all pupil. "I don't know that I'd call…"

And there's a sound at the door. The unmistakable sound of a keycard. And "Sara? You in there?"

For a moment, they just stare at each other. And then Sara, giving Len a semi-pleading "please understand" look, dives for the other side of the bed.

* * *

And she's gone. Like she'd never been there at all.

Or…well…Len takes an unsteady breath and struggles up onto his elbows, breathing raggedly, glancing down at himself. Almost. With one really notable exception.

Nate's apparently not content with just hollering from the door; the man has already stepped inside, although he can't see the main room from the entryway. But Len can hear his footsteps, apparently undeterred, and has to make a snap decision.

'Cause this isn't awkward or anything.

He'd run for the bathroom, but the entrance is right by the door Nate just came in. So…he grabs the edge of one of the disturbed blankets and whips it over himself, dropping his head onto one of the pillows and shoving his still-booted feet under the covers as best he can.

Nate emerges into the main area…and stares.

"Uh," he says. "Snart? Len? What are you doing?"

Len opens an eye and regards him. "Trying to take a nap. Those beds on the Waverider suck."

"Um." Tin Can's apparently not sure what to do with that. "Did you see Sara? She said she was coming up here."

_You could say that_. "I did. She told me the stakeout was off and left." Technically, it's true. Sort of.

"Oh." Nate's still standing there. "I wanted to ask her something, so Ray gave me his keycard. She didn't say where she was going?"

"Nope." Also true.

"Oh," the other man repeats. "Uh. Well, if you see her, tell her we're looking for her? We're heading back to the ship. Uh…you'll come back after your…nap?"

"Yep."

The monosyllabic responses finally seem to have the desired effect. Nate shrugs, then turns to leave. Len waits until he's sure the other man is gone, then sighs to himself, thumping his head against the pillow and kicking the covers off, waiting for Sara to reappear. After another moment, she does, joining him stretched out on the bed, looking a little sheepish.

Len eyes her, then lifts a hand to brush at her tousled hair. "You have dust bunnies in your hair."

"I bet." Sara meets his eyes. "Sorry. I just…that's not really how I wanted anyone to find out…"

"Do you  _want_   _anyone_  to find out?" He's really not sure which word he wanted to emphasize in that sentence, and frankly he doesn't even really plan to say it out loud, but he does, and she regards him in return steadily, so maybe it was time.

"I do," Sara says quietly, after a moment, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his arm. "I…I really missed you this week. Not just this." She gestures at how they're lying together on the bed. "But…everything."

It's…it's a confession. Not only about the future of keeping their relationship, whatever it is, secret, but about the nature of that relationship, which despite having changed not so long ago is still evolving. Len's not sure what to say. So, for the moment, he doesn't say anything.

And after another moment, Sara leans over to kiss him, and he chooses to let her distract him thoroughly again and to distract her in return.

For now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set just after the events of "One More Day to Stay," which was co-written with Pir8grl and features both her alternative-Earth version of Leonard Snart (an architect) and my Justice League rebel-with-ice-powers Len Snart. And a few others. So I recommend you read that first!

Len opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

He’s actually disoriented enough that it takes him a moment to register where he is—in his room on the Waverider, sprawled out in his bunk in only the boxers and T-shirt he sleeps in. Not in one of his multiple safehouses. Not in the closet of a room they gave him at Justice League HQ, which he almost never stayed in. Not in the last lair he’d shared with the other Rogues, when he was still considered their leader, before all that went to hell. Certainly not in the shabby old house where his misbegotten father had made his childhood and Lisa’s a living nightmare.

It’s not hard to figure out why that leaps so easily to mind. It’s already faded, but there’d been something…a dream. A nightmare?

There’s a whiff of cigarette smoke in the air. Len frowns.

He doesn’t talk about it, never has, but he’s no stranger to the sort of night terrors that leave him waking in a cold sweat, sometimes with his throat still raw. Lisa knows, and probably Mick, but he’d done his best to keep any…vocalizations…from reaching other ears. Let them think he wants to entertain lovers without the whole group hearing. He does value his privacy.

He hasn’t had any such incidents since falling through that portal and landing in this Earth, since a group of Legends who’d know the _him_ from here showed up to figure out what this new aberration was. There’s probably some reasons in there, but he’s too tired and his nerves too antsy right now for that kind of self-examination. He can’t grasp what the dream/nightmare he’d had was (a bar, the taste of alcohol on his lips), but the feeling of something just out of reach is unnerving him, especially since he can still remember some of the other nightmares of the past.

Len stares at the ceiling some more, listening to the quickness of his own breathing. The ship’s silent; they’re in the timestream at the moment, giving Gideon time to work on identifying any newer aberrations. By ship’s time, it’s the dead of night. Doesn’t mean no one’s awake but does mean it’s quiet.

He’s got an uneasy feeling that even if he gets back to sleep, the old nightmares will be there waiting, and that’s enough to keep him awake, even as sleep pulls at him. He’s _tired_ ; he’d been running around 1974 during the Super Outbreak of tornadoes, helping Amaya, Mick and Ray rescue people while Sara, Nate, Stein and Jax dealt with time pirates hampering the rescue efforts, a complication that could lead to scores of people dying who shouldn’t.

He needs to sleep.

He can’t sleep.

After a moment, Len sits up, an idea nagging at him. He shouldn’t, he thinks. Sara wants to be very circumspect with…them…and he gets that. But something strong is pulling him and after a moment, he goes with it, slipping out the door and quietly moving down the hall.

He stands outside Sara’s door for perhaps longer than he should, given that he’s trying to be stealthy. He’s tried to be his usual flippant, snarky self on this Earth, but while there’s been new baggage here, there’s less of his own—and in many ways, he’s been able to show more of his true self than he’s ever done back…

His mind doesn’t want to call it home. Huh.

Finally, he clears his throat. “Gideon. Sara…ah. Is she…”

The AI’s voice is quiet, somehow patient. “Captain Lance is asleep, but it’s not a deep sleep, Mr. Snart,” she says quietly. “I can wake her.”

He shouldn’t. He… “Please.”

* * *

“Captain Lance.” Gideon’s voice is quiet, but it penetrates Sara’s slumber anyway. “Captain.”

“Gideon,” she mumbles, already aware that the tone of the AI’s voice doesn’t betoken an emergency—or at least not one that affects the ship. “What…”

“Mr. Snart is at your door. I am detecting low levels of distress in him—nothing medically urgent, but unusual.”

That’s enough for Sara to wake. “Let him in,” she says immediately, pulling herself into a sitting position, shaking the cobwebs out of her head. “Please, Gideon.”

The door promptly slides open. Len’s standing there, looking a little lost, and something about his expression makes Sara’s heart contract.

“Len,” she says quietly, “what’s wrong?”

He blinks at her, although like he’s waking again, then moves into the room, the door sliding shut behind him. “Sara…” he says, then stops. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have woken you.”

There’s something puzzled about his tone, and Sara studies him, frowning. She’s no stranger to nightmares, but there’s something different here.

She thinks of John, suddenly, and shakes her head. Why the hell? There’s no whiff of the supernatural about this. Is there?

“I, ah,” Len starts, watching her now, “couldn’t sleep. And I’m actually kinda exhausted. Wondered if you could stand for some company.” He holds up a hand. “ _Just_ company.” Then, before she can even answer, he shakes his head a bit roughly, as if trying to come back to himself. “Sorry I woke you up. Really. I shouldn’t…”

“Stop.” He flinches at the word, which did come out a little harshly, and Sara suddenly feels bad, though she hadn’t meant it that way. She gets to her feet, holding out a hand to him. “It’s OK. Really. Just…c’mon. Let’s get some sleep.”

There’s an abrupt relaxation about his shoulders, and Len nods, moving toward her. He manages to bounce back enough from whatever’s bothering him to give her one of his lopsided smiles with a bit of forced lasciviousness about it, as if acting like he’s here for that sort of illicit activity will allow him to save face over the fact that’s he’s pretty much asking to cuddle.

Sara allows him the front, rolling her eyes at him a little as she wraps her fingers around his hand and pulls him gently toward the bed. It takes a few awkward minutes to get them both situated, but eventually they’re both stretched out, Sara as the little spoon in Len’s arms, his chin resting on her head, legs tangled together in a way that could be more sexually intimate than it actually is.

It’s extremely intimate in other ways, though, Sara thinks, closing her eyes in the darkened room and listening to the sound of Len’s breathing, feeling his skin against hers, inhaling his faint scent of leather, clean sweat, and mint. She’d spent enough time with the first Snart she’d known to know that it’s really very similar to his, but also not the same in an indefinable way. How odd.

She’s promised herself that she won’t compare the two anymore, and she really doesn’t much, but this comparison really doesn’t bother her. She’ll always miss the snarky, damaged crook she’d first met, but Len is Len, and himself. She likes _him_. She wants _him_. Maybe she’s even starting to lo…

Her mind shies away from it. But as his breathing evens out and grows deeper, and Sara starts to fade herself, she wonders.

* * *

There are far worse ways to wake up. Len’s aware from the moment he starts struggling toward consciousness that there’s a warm body curled up against his, and it’s a rather nice sensation indeed.

Hrm. Maybe too nice? He shifts, smirking to himself, but unwilling to wake Sara up with the physical manifestation of just how “nice” he finds it. Not that they haven’t gone there before—multiple times--but she still seems to be sleeping semi-deeply, and he’s got a pretty good idea how rare that is. Funny that he’s the one who first showed up unable to sleep.

The uneasiness that drove him to Sara’s door, however, seems to be gone. Len frowns at the thought, even as he takes a deep breath of the spicy scent of Sara’s shampoo and appreciates just how well-rested he feels. There’s still something nagging at him—something he’s forgotten?—but it doesn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

_“Rest, mate. Stop tiltin’ at windmills,” a voice whispers, a British accent, weary, a hand on his forehead…_

But then it’s gone, and Len’s distracted by Sara’s sleepy yawn, and the feel of her stretching against him. Aaaaand so much for keeping her from noticing his own arousal.

After a moment, though, she glances back over her shoulder at him, eyes sparkling. “Morning.”

“Morning.” Len returns, a grin tugging at his own mouth, then attempts seriousness. “Thanks. For letting me in…letting me stay. I don’ know…”

“It’s OK.” Sara’s eyes turn serious. “Nightmares?”

“I…I don’t know.” Len glances away, frowning. “I mean, I get ‘em. Lots…oh, hell. I don’ know what it was, but…”

“Hey.” Sara lifts a hand, lays a finger across his lips. “It’s OK. You don’t need to explain. I get it.”

He could turn this into a discussion about feelings. He could tell her…

Instead, holding her gaze, eyes shining, he takes the easier way out and sucks her finger into his lips, smirking as she laughs, voice deepening in desire as she pulls her hand away and reaches for him.

Their lips meet, and things heat up from there, hands roaming, catching on and removing clothing and caressing skin. There are muttered endearments and other encouragements, and then…

“Sara! Are you in there?” A pause, conveniently as Sara jerks her head back so fast she bangs it on the wall and curses even as Len blinks at her, disoriented himself. But Ray continues: “It’s, um, a lot later than you’re usually up, and Gideon’s reporting this odd error message, and…”

Gideon, Len’s pretty sure, would have alerted Sara if there was really anything she needed to know about. He peers up at her, watching what he’s pretty sure is the same thought crossing her face. Then she looks at him.

The question is clear: Do they let the team find out about them now? ‘Cause it’d be easy. If Ray finds them together, in this state of, ah, dishabille, it’s going to spread just about instantly. But neither of them planned on this, and both of their natures tend to encourage a bit more, well, control to any such announcement. And…

Then Sara sits up, abruptly, and raises her voice.

“Ray,” she says, sounding both weary and just a touch irritated, “does Gideon say it’s urgent?”

A pause. Then: “No…”

“OK. Then I’ll be out in a few minutes. OK? I needed to sleep in today. It’s not an emergency and I’ll meet you on the bridge.”

After a moment, they both hear Ray’s slightly sheepish “OK.”

Sara sighs again, reclining to let her brow brush Len’s collarbone. He wonders, briefly, if she really did sleep better for _his_ presence, too. It’s a nice thought. He moves his head a little, brushing his lips with hers once, then again, drawing away a little before they can restart their earlier activities.

Sara makes a disappointed noise, but watches without comment as Len rises, straightening his boxers and grabbing his shirt, pulling it on over his head before turning back for a moment. The two regard each other a long minute.

“Think we gotta figure out how we’re gonna tell them,” he says finally. “I mean…if you still wanna.”

Sara moves into a sitting position, and Len admires the view even as he’s hoping he hasn’t overstepped. But they need to talk about it; the team’s not dumb, and he’s pretty sure it’s not precisely a secret at all these days. Still.

“I do,” she says finally. “But is there any point?”

Len stares at her, a little stunned by the question. “I…what?”

Sara shrugs, watching him. “Are you going to leave? I know we haven’t talked about it more, but Jax and Gideon _are_ still trying to figure out a way to get the Waverider to your Earth. Eventually, they’ll do it. Might be tomorrow, might be in a year. If you’re going to leave, maybe we just…”

Her voice trails off. Len continue to stare at her. It’s obvious she’s been thinking about this, definitely more than he has. Frankly, he hasn’t thought about his Earth in a good while. He doesn’t particularly want to go back, but he has commitments there, and he should…

“I don’t know,” he answers finally, giving her the best answer he can at the moment.

Sara’s eyes are steady. “Then you need to think about that.”

There’s no arguing. “I…will.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the bump in rating.
> 
> Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta. And SylvanHeather, who gave me an idea for this. :)

Len really does think about it.

He thinks about staying on Earth-1 a lot, really. He’d been trying not to, but since Sara brought it up, it seems like the decision is always there, nagging at him, a puzzle he can’t solve. He’s between the irresistible force and the immoveable object, in a way, and he just doesn’t know what to do.

Mick and Sara are the two he’s closest to, here, but he doesn’t want to talk to them about the decision for any number of reasons. He considers talking to Gideon about it, but he’s not sure the dispassionate view of an AI is what he truly wants (through he also suspects Gideon’s not quite as dispassionate as she seems). None of the others seem quite right--or rather, they’re all just so… _good_ … that he feels like he already knows what they’d say.

He doesn’t want to hear it.

So he doesn’t ask. He continues on in much the same way, with one unfortunate exception: he’s avoiding Sara.

Len doesn’t even mean to do it. But he remembers that steady gaze on him that morning in her room, and he just…can’t. In a way, he supposes with a bit of gallows humor, that’ll solve his conundrum, won’t it? There are a number of reasons he’d like to stay here in Earth-1, but Sara’s the main one. He’s well and truly fallen for her, this amazing, badass timeship captain, and even if he hadn’t, he has a feeling he’d like to be her friend on any Earth there is.

The woman in question gives him his space after that morning. Still, as the days pass, he starts to see her watching him out of the corner of her eye or even more directly. Maybe he’s imagining the regret in her expression, but it hurts, and he starts to let himself drift back into her vicinity, unsure, cautious of private conversations.

The team realizes that something’s up. Mick actually corners Len in the galley and tries, gruffly and awkwardly, to play relationship counselor—for whatever relationship there might be. This Mick might be very different then his own Earth’s Mick, having been a Legend for several years now, but Len still can’t help being amused and vaguely appalled.

And, yeah, maybe their subterfuge might not have been as successful as they thought it’d been. Because the other members of the team are…hovering. Annoyingly, at times. Jax is just giving them regretful looks. Len’s caught Amaya looking at him a time or two like she’d enjoy letting her tiger manifestation disembowel him. Stein has taken to pontificating about his marriage and how he’d known Clarissa was _the_ _one_. Ray keeps giving them both puppy eyes. And Nate…well, Len actually sorta likes the historian, but the man’s reaction to…well, whatever the team thinks is going on…is even more embarrassing, so embarrassing he doesn’t even want to think about it.

He’s really quite relieved when a stop in 1993 Central City means, according to Gideon, that the team will be passing far too close to the site when a 21-year-old Earth-1 Leonard Snart will be on a job. Len is quite a bit older and not really the same man, but he looks enough like him that they can’t risk the confusion. (Mick’s apparently in prison at the moment, which the man acknowledges with a shrug, and he actually looks less like his younger self than Len does—sort of does--so he’s less likely to trip alarms anyway.)

Having the ship to himself is sort of neat, but he’s not particularly fond of being alone with his thoughts right now. Len looks up and reads some more of this Earth’s history, just because it’s interesting and he can never tell when something little is going to trip him up. (Lennon died in 1980 here? Damnit.) He realizes after the fact that it’s just one more little sign that he’s somehow mentally planning or hoping to stay here.

The rest of the team has left on the mission, although Amaya and Sara had planned to head to a different site than the others, who were protecting a young police officer on his rounds through the city. The ladies were hunting down a possible second aberration that Gideon wasn’t quite sure of. Len’s not quite clear on it either.

Eventually, he finds himself in the galley, staring moodily into a glass of lemonade. He misses Sara. He misses…

“Hey.”

His head jerks up and he stares at the doorway, where Sara…still in her early ‘90s garb, denim skirt and pink top and kinda floofy hair, and OK, that’s sort of hot, but really what isn’t on her…

“Hey,” he manages. “That, ah, was quicker than I thought. Everything OK?”

Sara tips her head in acknowledgement as she moves into the room, watching him. “Ours was a false alarm. And the others are fine, just, well, a bit bored as they tail this guy.” She shakes her head, smiling a little as she runs a hand through her hair in an apparent attempt to tame it. “Mick’s befriended him.”

Len nearly spits out his sip of lemonade. “The cop?”

“Mmhmm.” Sara’s smile grows as she against the counter next to him. “Just a patrol officer, right now. Mick apparently took pity on him for some reason and gave him some pointers…from the other side of things, although he didn’t really let on to that.”

Len turns that over in his head, glad for the distraction. “Huh. I’ll be damned.” He can’t ever imagine his Earth’s Mick doing such a thing. “This is the guy who’s gonna go on to save all those people 20 years down the road in Ivy Town?”

“Yeah. As an undercover agent who covers a plot.” Her eyes sparkle as she delivers the kicker. “He’s now decided Mick might just be an undercover agent. So he’s very earnestly listening to every word.”

It’s too much. Len laughs out loud, and Sara does too, and, damn, it’s good to see her again, to talk to her…

Just as the laughter starts to die and Len’s forced to start to think about the situation a little more, Sara abruptly holds up a hand, meeting his eyes with a direct gaze.

“Just…listen,” she says before he can get out another word. “Please.” When he nods, she takes a deep breath and nods too.

“When I told you that you had to make a decision, I meant it,” she says quietly. “Because you do. But…I never wanted you to…to withdraw like that.” She gives him a _look_ as he starts to speak, and he subsides as she continues. “I miss you, idiot. And…and whether or not you decide to stay…” Another deep breath and then, even more quietly, “and I hope you do, you know…let’s go back, OK? To before?”

“Before?” His brain is misfiring.

Sara gives him another _look_ , but a smile’s lurking around the edges of it. “Before I said that, no matter how true it is.”

“I…” Len takes his own deep breath, aware of the rapid-fire beating of his heart, the uncharacteristic nerves and the odd feeling of regret. “…it’s not that I don’t want to…it’s just…” The thought of telling her what he’d done, the pain he’d caused, it makes him freeze. Pun definitely not intended. “It’s complicated,” he finishes rather lamely.

But Sara’s shaking her head. “It always is,” she says quietly, then holds up a hand again as he starts to speak. “Seriously. Whatever’s going on with you, with your Earth, whatever you’re so conflicted by…I’m here if you want to talk. But until you make a decision, can we…can you just…”

It’s her turn to let her voice drift off and glance away, then back, almost uncertain. Len, who hates that he’s apparently caused this uncharacteristic hesitation, moves toward her. “Just?”

“Just don’t go away until you have to.” Sara’s eyes are direct now, and for two people who tend to avoid talking about feelings, there are sure a lot of feelings in this room. “OK?”

Ah, hell, maybe it hurts more, but it’s worth it. “OK. Promise.” He steps closer yet. “For what it’s worth, I missed you too. A lot.”

The corner of Sara’s mouth lifts. “Good,” she murmurs, then turns away before things can intensify again. “Want a drink? I could use one.”

“Sure.” He remembers something. “Where’s Amaya? She was with you, right?”

“I sent her to check on the others.” Sara lifts an eyebrow at him as she pulls two glasses out of a cupboard, then opens another to study some old glass bottles that are, he’s told, what remains of the former Waverider captain’s stash of alcohol. “I wanted a chance to talk to you, just the two of us.”

“Ah?” _Smooth_ , _Len_. He clears his throat, getting up from his perch at the counter. “Anything else you wanted to say?” _And that wasn’t much smoother_ …

The smile is sparkling in Sara’s eyes again as she glances over her shoulder. “Well,” she says, glancing at the cabinet, selecting an unlabeled bottle apparently at random and turning back to him. “Not _yet_ …”

* * *

Maybe it’s the booze.

Sara will admit she’d grabbed something without much thought. Gone are the days of Rob Roy’s scotch, at least, unless they want to go find him and get some themselves. (Now there’s a thought…) The few bottles left of Rip’s old cache are less notable, with fading, peeling labels or no labels at all, like they’d been filled at some shabby backwoods still decades ago.

It’s not like either of them have much of it, either. Sara, despite her, well, legendary tolerance, is still captain with people still out in the field. And Len, child of an abusive alcoholic and possessor of still-uncertain metahuman powers, is cautious about how much he drinks, although he’s generally amenable to nursing a glass of something for a while over cards.

But the mysterious, slightly sweet amber liquid goes straight to her head, making her feel nearly giddy—and quite warm—as they sit together with their drinks, chatting quietly about some topic neither of them will even remember later. From the way Len’s eyes are focused on hers, direct and incredibly intent, she’s pretty sure he’s feeling the same.

Maybe it’s the fact they’re alone together for the first time in a week.

Sara, not to put too fine a point on it, has become quite happily used to copious amounts of excellent, mind-blowing sex. And the desire she’s feeling has very little to do with the alcohol that they’re consuming, and everything to do with the thought of that, and the look in Len’s eyes as he watches her.

And maybe’s it’s partly the realization that…yes. He wants to stay. Maybe he hadn’t actually managed to say it clearly, but Sara’s perceptive. She’d listened, and she’d watched him, and while there’s obviously something holding him back, the pull here is just as strong…and that’s strong indeed.

She barely even lets herself think it…but he wants to stay _with_ _her_.

Without any planning, without any particular agreement that they’re back together, that they’re still together, that they’re…whatever they are…that “conversation and a drink” turns into a stolen kiss, an almost unintentional brush of lips as Sara looks up at him, as Leonard tilts his head down to her. Then another, far more intentional, slow and deliberate. And another, heating up, deepening, tongues sliding together slowly, the taste of the honey liquor, hands reaching out to grasp and hold.

It’s not long before things are…well, if not totally out of control, then far closer than they would normally let them get, at least here. Len has Sara boosted up against the counter, evening some of the height difference, and she’s managed to get her skirt rucked up and legs locked around his waist as they…well, “kiss” seems far too mild, she thinks distantly, letting a gasp escape as Len moves his mouth to her jaw for a moment, her nails scratching faintly across his hair even as her other hand reaches around to grab his ass, pressing him closer.

Make out? It seems so…juvenile. Sara smirks as it’s Len’s turn to let out a low moan as she grinds up against him, bringing her hands around to frame his face, dragging his mouth back to hers as they move against each other, sadly still with too many layers of clothing between them. Well, there’s one way to make sure the terminology is a little more precise…

But Len freezes, just a moment, as Sara settles herself a little more firmly on the counter, moving her hands down to the zipper of his jeans. “Uh…here?” he mutters, pulling back a little, flushed and pupils shot in a way that’s very satisfying. “Really?”

“Would you rather stop and take the time to move to one of our rooms?” she asks, fingers moving along the rough fabric and the warm hardness underneath, hearing him swallow another moan. “That cop needs to be protected until at least the end of the day. We shouldn’t be interrupted.”

She laughs at the resigned look he gives her. “I know, I know.” Sara moves one hand to his jaw, watching him intently. “Len, we can move if you want. But…” She flexes the fingers of her other hand again, deliberately. “…there’s a certain…excitement in this…”

His eyes spark, but he doesn’t answer in words. Instead, he moves his hands down, over her hand, helping her work the button, then moves them up again, stroking lightly against the skin of her thighs, then under her short skirt, catching in the skimpy panties she’s wearing, moving them…

“Len…ahhh…” Sara’s free hand, on the way down to help her work the jeans down over his hips, catches in his shirt, jerking involuntarily, and there’s the sound of ripping fabric.

And there are no words, then, not for the moment, at least not coherent ones, just half-gasped names and murmured suggestions and noises of great approval as they carry on with their activities. They’re each focused on the other intently, to the exclusion of pretty much everything else, and the sensations building to an unescapable conclusion.

Analytically, Sara knows that Len has had to battle mightily to get his powers under control. And she knows that while he’s largely managed that, it’s still not 100 percent. Moments of intense stress, or great distraction, can foil his control, sending a wave of ice radiating out until he’s recovered it again, although it generally doesn’t take him long to do that.

She’s not thinking analytically right now.

Neither is he.

She’s also not thinking about how she’d earlier asked Gideon not to interrupt them, simply because she and Len needed to have that conversation. It’s a request she hasn’t rescinded…and Gideon, for an AI, is possessed of enough of a sense of humor to make use of that.

Both of them tend to be highly aware of their surroundings, but between physical sensation, emotional entanglement, and the remaining warm buzz of the mystery alcohol, well…they’re not, not this time. They don’t hear anyone enter the ship, or anyone call for them. Just each other.

“Sara…I…” Len’s voice is unhinged, and oh, Sara’s pretty sure they’re both so very _close_. She doesn’t want to talk, so she stops his mouth with hers.

Which might have, in hindsight, been a mistake. He doesn’t tell her he feels control about to slip, even as they both know another sort of control is about to go, for both of them.

Only a moment later, indeed, Len jerks his hands away from her, bracing them on the counter instead. Sara gasps at the lack of that touch, but then gasps again, leaning her head back, letting go, even as she (very, very distantly) feels a rising chill around them through the warmth that envelopes her.

Len cries out, even as she does, and the cold intensifies as they move together one more time. Sara, breathing hard, opens her eyes and stares at the ceiling, then slowly moves her head to look at Len, who, eyes dark, is staring back at her as he pulls away, as she gingerly lowers her unsteady feet to the ground. Then she looks down, at the ice around her, around his hands as they’re still tensed on the edge of the counter, at the sheen of the ice across the countertop, at the shards sparkling here and there, in the bowl of apples a few feet away, lodged in the box of cookies Nate keeps leaving out on the counter.

Not a single shining fragment had touched her.

Len’s blinking at her, sense coming back to his eyes. “Are you OK?” he asks urgently. “Sara…”

“I’m fine,” she hastens to tell him. “I’m better than fine. Len…”

And then they hear the voice, coming closer.

“Sara? Where are you?”

Her eyes widen, meeting Len’s startled blue gaze. He blinks, then pulls his hands free of the ice, looking down at his torn shirt, at the pants pushed down past his ass, at the icy mess around them. And then, darting her an apologetic look, he promptly ducks down, behind the counter.

Well, they do say turnabout is fair play. Sara sighs, adjusting her skirt, turning to the door and smiling at Jax as he pauses in the doorway.

“Everything OK?” she asks casually, ignoring the melting ice around her, running a hand through her mussed hair.

Jax eyes her, but he doesn’t move farther into the room. “Uh. We asked Gideon where you were, but she didn’t answer. Are _you_ OK?”

“Fine.” Sara lets her smile widen, hoping it doesn’t look too much like, well, like she’d just been doing precisely what she’d been doing with their mutual teammate. She’s pretty sure, though, that she doesn’t quite pull it off.

Jax’s brow furrows. He may not have multiple degrees like his counterpart in Firestorm, but he’s not stupid. In fact, she thinks, sometimes he’s smarter than all of them.

He doesn’t comment on that situation, though.

“Gray didn’t bother to tell any of us that he, ah, still ran with a rather interesting crowd even into the ‘90s,” he says instead, leaning against the doorway. “We got outta Dodge even as younger Gray did, avoiding the cops looking for weed. Thought it’d be better to avoid running into him again, or complicating matters. The others are still guarding that cop.”

Sara snorts in laughter even as she turns the situation over in her head… _and_ tries to ignore the way Len has decided to start kissing her inner ankle, because he’s just an asshole like that.

“Good,” she says. “Everyone’s good?”

Jax smirks at her in a way that gives Sara the uneasy feeling he’s definitely more aware of what’s going on than he lets on. “Yeah. Mick’s still that dude’s new BFF. Which is weird, but hey. _You_ OK?”

“Just fine, little brother.” Sara tries to convey the relaxation she doesn’t want to explain. “Um,” she says, answering the question the second time around. “I’m fine. Really. It’s…good. How are you?”

Jax grin grows. Oh, hell. “Oh, I’m fine, too,” he returns. “Though maybe not so fine as you.”

Sara lifts her chin and glares at him, which just makes him laugh. The sound of Stein’s voice farther down the hall reaches them, and she tenses, but Jax winks at her, turning away from the door.

“Hey, Gray,” he calls, moving away from the doorway. “Did you…”

The door slides shut behind him. Sara stares at it, then rolls her eyes.

“Gideon,” she says flatly. “Don’t let anyone else in. And _tell_ _me_ if anyone else comes back on the ship.”

“Yes, Captain Lance,” the AI replies almost sweetly. “Of course.”

Sara ignores her and looks back at Len as he gets to his feet, rebuttoning his jeans and smirking at her. But then, he looks at the mess on the counter, icy fragments and pools of water, and that smirk flees instantly, an odd look taking over his eyes.

Sara surveys the scene, too, even as she wonders about his expression. “Well,” she says with a sigh, “time to clean up. At least ice is ultimately just water.” She throws him a grin. “And it was worth it.”

* * *

It’s true. But Len’s still staring at the scene, thinking about how he’d lost control again, even in a small way, even if he hadn’t hurt Sara. And it’s impossible not to think about the other ways he’s screwed up, the damage he _has_ caused. His fingers tighten on the counter, and he closes his eyes, willing the images away.

Sara notices. Of course she does.

“I’m fine,” she tells him quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his wrist. “Wonderful, even. You didn’t hurt me.”

Len shakes his head roughly. “I’m glad. But I…”

“It could be worse.”

“Yeah. It could. It _is_.”

And then he tells her. About the mistakes he’s made. The mess he’d left behind him, back on his Earth. The debts he has to pay.

And when he’s done, Sara’s staring back at him. She doesn’t seem to recoil from him, or even to think worse of him for his actions, and that’s a relief. But she also tightens her fingers around his wrist, and he knows what she’s going to say.

“You have to go back,” she tells numbly. “You have to fix it.”

They’re not the words he wants to hear, but they’re the ones he knows are true.

“I know.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the betas.

It seems like the geographic South Pole should be quiet. Especially now, at the very tail end of 1911, not so long after the first men to ever step foot here have left.

In reality, though, the wind never ends, never stops howling, never stops its ceaseless sweep across the frozen plains. It’s unnerving, and the men hadn’t stayed long, making their mark, taking their photos, then heading for relative safety, for accolades and their own measure of fame.

They’d been thoroughly unaware of the conflict that arose behind them, the ambush set up by those in the ships that were just out of sight, for the other ship that came roaring in to protect the men.

And they were unaware of what came after.

* * *

Not so much longer, not at all, the roar of a timeship’s engine rises again over the never-ending wind, and the sound as it settles to the ground, then the rise of voices calling to each other, urgency in every word.

The terrain is no longer flat here; jagged spires and massive chunks of ice rise from the plains, where none were before. There are three gaping areas, as if something large had been encased in each but broken free, although whatever those objects had been, they’re gone now.

The people who’ve emerged from the timeship—a ship just about the size and shape of those three gaping holes—seem to be looking for something with increasing determination. Eventually, they find it, in the thickest part of the ridge of ice that forms sort of a semicircle around the area.

They find _him_.

“Sara! He’s here!”

The voices rise again, and with them, after a moment, the sound of tools and even lasers chipping away at ice, carefully, bit by bit, until…

“He’s blue.” The voice is hushed. “Guys…”

“Be careful. Don’t do any more damage…do the rest manually…”

“I’m through!”

Fingers scrabble for the hand that’s been chipped out of the ice, gingerly closing over icy flesh. “He’s…he’s frozen. No pulse. Sara…”

“Get him out of there!” The grief in the voice is cloaked in command. “He’s always cold…his powers protect him…”

“But that’s just a shell of ice usually…”

“Jax, Stein, Mick…now that we can see better, can you melt most of the ice around him, so we can chip away more? And Ray can use his lasers?”

“I ain’t good at the fine work, Boss, but I can do that. Kid? Professor?”

“With you, Mick.”

The only noise for a while after that is the rush of fire, low murmurs, then more chipping.

“Clear his head, make sure he can breathe…”

“But he’s not breathing…”

“If we get him warmed up again, he’ll start.”

“Sara…”

“Do it!”

* * *

He’s cold.

He hasn’t felt cold in…months? Years? Not since the accident.

_And it was an accident, really, he hadn’t meant for any of it to happen, not like that. He’d been arrogant and stupid and a little too enthralled with the joy of tinkering and possible one-upmanship, but he hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone. Not even the Flash, to be honest, it was just the next step in their unending game of cat and mouse…_

He’s cold, but then there’s…warm? The sensation is so weird in the context that his thoughts, moving slow and sluggishly, don’t register it as what it is at first.

He only remembers the ice.

He remembers…

_Watching the ship rise into the sky, leaving him behind, although no one knows it yet. And it’s OK, it’s OK, because he’s using these misbegotten powers to save them, this team he’s come to care for, this woman he’s come to love._

_Lifting his hands to the sky, pulling on his powers like he never has before, raising a wall of ice to stop the time pirates who’d ambushed them, the pirates teaming up to take out the ship and the team that’s been hampering their efforts._

_His ice overtaking the ships and it probably won’t keep them down for good, or even for long, but it will let the Waverider, outnumbered and outgunned, get away. But he can’t raise that much ice without his control slipping, the ice overtaking him as well, but that’s OK too. If they just get away…_

_The ice—_

The warmth—

Hurts. Feels like fire, like burning ( _Mick, I’m so sorry, Mick_ …) across nerve endings desensitized by the extreme cold. He takes a quick, shallow breath—the first in a while, although he doesn’t realize it at the moment—and lets it out.

“Ow,” he breathes, the noise nearly inaudible even to him.

“Did you hear that?

“Hear what?”

“Be quiet, Haircut! Listen…”

_Mick_? He tries to form the word. It doesn’t quite happen.

“He moved!”

“Len! Can you hear me?”

Sara sounds upset. He doesn’t want that. He tries to reach for her, but nothing’s working. And his eyes won’t open. Why won’t his eyes open? He frowns, vaguely aware that even that expression is barely a twitch of his lips.

“Saaaa-aahhh…”

“We’re going to get you out, Len. You’re going to be OK, you idiot. Just…just hang in there…”

There’s a wash of warm air across his face (ow) and Len tries again to open his eyes. It seems to take forever, and use far too much energy, but eventually, he manages, barely.

Everything’s blurry, seen through the ice crystals still clinging to his lashes, and he can’t seem to focus anyway. He has an impression of color, of movement, of people jostling around him, and then she’s right there, in the center, blue parka, golden hair, pale face, blue eyes staring right at him.

“Len,” Sara says again. “Stay with me.”

She reaches out, through the ice that still holds him, and rests her fingertips against his left cheekbone, the only thing she can get to. The touch almost burns, it feels so warm, and Len almost closes his eyes again, remembering just in time to try to keep them open. Just another minute.

“Sah-ra,” he manages, sounding a little better, he thinks. “Pir…pir…”

“Gone for now. You saved us. Len…”

But the haze is rising again, and no matter how hard he tries to keep his eyes open, it’s not happening. He tries to say something else, but his mouth isn’t working, and…

And then he’s drifting away again, hot and cold, pain and sweet oblivion, Sara Lance’s blue eyes, shining with both determination and tears, the last thing he sees.

* * *

He’s warm when he wakes again. There’s no pain, but he’s very, very tired, so exhausted he can barely force his eyes open to take in his surroundings, although the “beep” of monitors has already given him a clue.

Medbay. He’s in one of those uncomfortable bed/chairs that’s he’s never been able to figure out the practicality of, but right now, he couldn’t move if he tried. And…he turns his head just a little, the movement as exhausting as running the length of Central City…

Sara’s sitting in the chair next to him, looking as weary as he’s ever seen her, eyes red-rimmed and tired, hair bundled up in a messy knot on the top of her head. But she’s watching him in a way that suggests she’s been doing that for hours, and the flicker of her eyes when his gaze meets hers is nearly imperceptible.

“You stupid hero,” she greets him quietly. “Welcome back.”

Len regards her a long moment, uncertain what to say, uncertain through the haze of fatigue if he can even speak. He’d accepted his death, standing there in the snow, if it meant the team would get away, wouldn’t face a violent, fiery death at the hands of the combined pirates and their massed firepower. But he’d never thought about how Sara, living, would react to that.

The original Leonard hasn’t stood between them in a while, but Len thinks he’s here now.

After a moment, Sara shakes her head, then reaches out and very gently touches his nearest hand. When he doesn’t move or flinch (distantly, he remembers how much it hurt when they started thawing him), she wraps her fingers around it, holding on with a grip that would be painful if it was much tighter.

 “You…you were frozen. You should be dead,” she tells him bluntly. “But…your powers, they apparently kept your body healing when the frostbite tried to set in and kept your core warm, so you held on. Did you know that would happen?”

He’s pretty sure she reads the answer on his face. Well, he’d suspected something like that might happen, in a way, given what happened to Mi…given what he’s seen of other powers like his. But that hadn’t been what he was thinking about when he’d made his stand at the pole.

He’d expected to die.

“Why did you do that?” Sara asked after another moment, her tone bleak. And Len can tell she’ll wait as long as needed this time for him to find the words and strength to answer.

“They’da shot us…you outta the sky,” he mumbles, after a moment, the words barely coherent. “Too many. An’…” He pauses, longer than he originally means to, collecting himself.

“We were in my element,” he manages slowly, enunciating against the tendency to slur things right now. “I could do something about it. And I did.”

“And you nearly died.”

Easy enough to read the word unspoken at the end of that sentence. He gives her a lopsided, weary smile. “Again.”

But Sara’s eyes flash and her fingers tighten on his for a second before she actually surges to her feet, scowling down at him like an avenging angel. Len blinks at her, wondering what he’s missed, and how his brain is still moving slowly enough for him to be so clueless about it.

“No, _you_ ,” she bites out. “ _You_ , Len. _You_ nearly died. _You_ were frozen and blue inside a chunk of ice, and I nearly lost _you_.” She takes a breath as he blinks again. “My teammate, my friend, my lover, the…the man I’ve been falling in love with. _You_.”

Len stares at her, waiting for his still-frozen-feeling brain to catch up.

“Oh,” he says finally, aware that that’s really a pretty lame thing to say right now, but unable to manage anything else. “ _Oh_.”

Something about the syllable—or his expression—though, apparently makes it enough. Sara’s mouth twitches, and she reaches out to touch his face, much like she’d done earlier, through the ice.

“But I didn’t,” she says with a sigh. “Lose you, I mean. And please don’t go pulling anything like that again. OK? I can handle…I can handle you leaving, if you have to. Just not like that.”

How else is he supposed to response to that?

“I…OK,” Len manages after a moment. “I…” He knows what he needs to say, knows what he wants to say, but his apparently still-thawing brain isn’t managing anything even remotely near coherence.

So he just blurts it out. “Love you.” And then when she stares at him: “Um…” She’d said that, right? First? Just a minute ago? More or less?

OK, double down. “I love you, Sara.” He shifts up on his elbows a little more, fighting a little dizziness, keeping his eyes on her face, the words coming easier. “You’re badass and you’re amazing…” Deep breath. “…and you’re gorgeous and you’re freakin’ awesome in bed…and other places…” OK, maybe he’s still a bit lightheaded and maybe Gideon’s given him some of the good painkillers, but it’s _true_. “…and I’ve been falling for you since you guys found me back in your weird National City. I…” He stops. Sara’s still staring at him. “Um. I can keep going?”

That gets a smile, finally. Sara pauses another moment, then moves even closer. Len watches her, bemused, as she seems to size up the medbay bed and him…then sits down on the edge and swings her feet up onto it, pushing him over a little and lying down next to him.

“Hey,” Len manages good-naturedly as she jostles him, lowering himself back down to the bed, “invalid here!” But Sara’s got her arms around him now, her face buried in the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, and from the noises she’s making, she can’t seem to decide whether she wants to laugh or cry.

OK, he decides. Third option. And he turns toward her, ducks his head, and kisses her, his cracked and slightly painful lips meeting her lips, slightly salty with tears. The sting seems only fitting, the most minor of punishments for his many sins, and he deepens the kiss after only a moment, his hand cradling Sara’s jaw. She hums in amusement, pulls back just far enough to whisper “idiot” again, and then kisses him harder as they lie there tomorrow in the medbay bed, both managing to convey a depth of emotion without any further words at all.

“A-hem.”

Somewhere, in the unoccupied part of Len’s mind, part of his consciousness catalogs the quiet voice as belonging to Professor Stein. Welp, everyone else has walked in on them at this point, so why not? Sara hasn’t pulled away, so he doesn’t either, figuring the older man will give up after a moment.

“A- _hem_.”

Or not.

The amused and slightly louder clearing of the throat isn’t what makes them pull away from each other and look toward the doorway, though. No, it’s the low hum of laughter—Mick’s snort, Ray’s not-quite-a-giggle, Amaya’s quiet chuckle, Jax’s snicker, Nate’s stifled guffaw—together with that noise that makes them react, rising on elbows to stare.

And the team, _the_ _whole damned_ _team_ , is standing there, watching them with expressions of varied smugness and amusement. Not a one of them looks surprised, of course, though Len’s sort of impressed they’d all managed to cram into the room without their captain or the convalescent noticing. (Well, OK, the two of them had been sorta occupied. But still.)

Mick, at the front, is grinning, even though—Len squints suspiciously—even though there’s a sheen to the bigger man’s eyes. Amaya glances up at Mick, smiling, then back at them, winking.

“Uh,” Len manages when Sara, laughing quietly, leans back against his pillow, putting a hand over her face and otherwise staying quiet. “Hi?” He pauses, eyeing the smirking group. “Surprise?”

That gets a louder bark of laughter from Mick, drowning out any softer agreement.

“You two really thought we didn’t know?” he scoffs, looking around at the rest of the team with a fond “can you believe these idiots?” expression. “Seriously?”

“You were wearing his shirt the morning I can back after your ‘first date,’ ” Amaya speaks up drily, eyeing Sara. “Far too big for you. And nothing under it.”

Sara sits up indignantly. “I was on my way to the shower…”

“…and your hair was a mess, in a certain…way…”

“And you freakin’ quoted Han Solo at me, Snart…”

“Well, it _fit_.”

“The hotel,” Nate added solemnly, raising his hand, still looking rather…traumatized. “Sara, where were you? Under the bed?”

“Well…”

Len’s staring at the sheepish-looking Ray. “Was there even an error message from Gideon that day?”

“Um.” The inventor is slightly red. “Not really. I…”

“We dared him,” Mick says, grinning, even as Nate happily adds “He just can’t resist a double-dog dare.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” the ship’s AI says primly, even as Ray yelps “Hey!” and glares up at her receptors.

Jax holds up his hands, shaking his head. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t say a word.” He gives them a smirk. “But the cat was already pretty much outta the bag at that point.”

Len, whose head is spinning just a little, flops back down onto the pillows, a combination of amused and chagrined. He hears Sara chuckle next to him, even if she reaches out to thread her fingers through his again.

“OK, OK, you’re made your point,” he hears her tell the team, mock-sternly. “Now, let the hero of the hour rest…”

“Didn’t look much like you two were resting…”

“She’s right,” Mick barks, cutting off Nate’s snide comment and sounding very much like Sara’s second in command. “Let ‘im be. And Snart…”

Not ‘Weird Snart?’ Len opens an eye and regards the other man, surprised to see a distinctly soft expression on Mick’s face—at least, much softer than usual. The rest of the team is arrayed behind and around him, looking serious, for once.

“Yer a member of this team,” Mick says quietly. “You already were, but man…you saved us. And whatever you got waiting for you back at…I ain’t gonna say ‘home,’ ‘cause far as we’re all concerned, this’s yer home now…your Earth, well, we’re gonna help fix it.” He nods firmly as murmurs of agreement rise around him. “Whatever we got to do. Got it?”

Len stares at him. At them. The team.

_His_ team.

“Got it,” he returns just as quietly, as he feels Sara suck in a quick breath and squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Mick. All of you.”

They leave then, though not so quietly as they’d come in, heading out the door into the Waverider’s corridors. Mick holds Len’s eyes a moment longer, then nods again, turning to go. Amaya, at his side, turns back a moment, crossing to the bed and, much to Len’s surprise, leaning over to kiss his forehead gently. Then she winks again, at him and at Sara, and follows the others out.

Sara, after a startled moment, makes a thoughtful “huh” sound, then meets Len’s eyes. They study each other a long moment, and then Sara nods, recognizing that words aren’t needed, not at the time. She leans over and kisses him softly, then, pulling away to get to her feet after only a moment.

“Get some rest, hero,” she tells him, smiling as he groans. “I’ll see you later.”

And then it’s quiet. Len leans back against the pillows, feeling the fatigue he’d battled past earlier returning. Well, he’d pushed his powers far past the limits they’d ever reached before. It’s not surprising. Hell, he’s still surprised he’s even alive.

As Gideon dims the lights without even being asked, he closes his eyes.

His team.

His home.

His love.

His…family.

Yes, he thinks, even as he starts to drift off. _His_.

And he’s going to fight for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be followed by "My Destiny" and "Hearts of Steel."


End file.
